


Phoenix Ficlets

by Phoenix94



Series: The Phoenix Chronicles [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, Canon LGBTQ Character, Cosplay, Damon has homophobic parents, Dubious Consent, F/F, First Meetings, Hook-Up, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, LGBTQ Character of Color, LGBTQ Female Character of Color, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Nightmares, Original Character(s), Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Self-Harm, Sexual Assault, Tattoos, and Jake, depressed Kris, kris is a nerd okay?, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-08 18:21:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16434455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix94/pseuds/Phoenix94
Summary: Oneshots from my original fics, Breakable, Unbreakable and If It's Worth Saving Me. It's stuff that I thought would be fun to write but either didn't fit in with the actual fics or I was fighting with writer's block and a oneshot that didn't impact the plot was easier to deal with. The genres range from sweet and fluffy to angst and drama and bursting into tears while writing it. These are LGBTQ-centric fics, so the oneshots will be too.





	1. Say Something

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! Sorry for the hiatus! While I was gone, I changed jobs, which cut into my writing time a lot. And I totaled my Blazer trying to save a possum. I've started writing more original fics, and I thought I'd share them with y'all. I have a tumblr now too, so you can follow me there if you want more info on what I'm working on: foenixwriter94.  
> I got the idea for this fic because I stopped to get gas after work one night and 'Say Something(I'm Giving Up On You),' which is one of my favorite songs, was playing over the radio and it inspired this sad thing. I'll stop rambling so you can read the thing.

“Damon, I'm done,” Kris sighs quietly.  
“Done with?” I don’t understand what he means.  
“Us.”  
“What? Why? Did I do something wrong?” He has to be joking. This has to be a sick joke.  
“No, it’s not you. I'm not a good fit for you. You need someone better than me.”  
“Don’t tell me what I need. You’re what I need. I love you.”  
“I love you too. That’s why I'm letting you go.”  
“Don’t I get a choice? I chose you, Kris. I want to be with you. Not some random guy. You.”  
“This isn’t up for discussion. You’ll be better off without me. Get your stuff and go.” Without another word, he turns and slinks into his room. He locks the door behind him.  
“Say something. Anything but this. Say this is a cruel joke. Say you never wanted me. Say you changed your mind. Say something but don’t blame me for this. This isn’t my choice, Kristoff. It’s yours.” My voice quivers but doesn’t break.  
My heart shatters into a million pieces. Each razor-sharp shard slices me to ribbons. I thought I had known pain with Gage but I was wrong. This is pure, unadulterated agony. I feel like I'm dying.  
You promised forever. You said you wanted me. You said you wanted to marry me and have kids. We were talking rings. You said your promises didn’t break. You said I could trust you. And you lied, I think sadly as I pack. My eyes burn with tears I refuse to shed.  
I let the tears fall once I'm in my car. Not only am I losing the man I love but my best friend.  
I got better because of you! You encouraged me to help. You believed I could be okay after he shattered me, and I believed you. Now you don’t want me. I tried to be someone you could love. I gave you my heart and you crushed it in your hand, I think bitterly, glaring at his pristine white house through blurry eyes.  
I’ll be okay. I always am. I survived without him before. I can survive without him again. Surviving is what I do. It’s what I'm good at. I survived three-and-a-half years of Gage abusing me. I’ll survive getting my heart broken


	2. Hope and Cupcakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, most of the ones from Breakable, Unbreakable are from Damon's POV. The three from Kris's are generally pretty sad. The warnings for this one are brief mentions of past abuse because Damon's ex-boyfriend is a dirtbag. I was trying to go for something sweet with this one instead of angst or drama.

I keep my eyes focused on the floor as I step into the bakery situated on the Square. It sits directly across the street from the courthouse and between a computer repair place and a hearing aid shop. Maybe something sweet will make me feel better but all I want to do right now is cry. Right now, I am a week out of an abusive relationship. I had been doing decent until today; I had to deal with one of his friends who he asked to stalk me when he couldn’t do it personally.  
The cool air of the bakery comes as a relief after walking three blocks here in the summer heat and humidity. Welcome to central Illinois, where winter lasts eternity and spring lasts for a week before turning into summer. I drag my eyes unwillingly from the black-and-purple tile floor to glance around at my surroundings. The black-and-purple theme continues around the bakery. The chairs are black with purple chairs. The tube-shaped pendant lights above the table alternate between purple and black with each table. The walls are painted a dark violet to match. It’s crowded with people either enjoying their lunch breaks or satisfying their sweet tooth or seeking refuge from the sweltering heat.  
The only visible worker smiles warmly when I approach the display cases. His short, coffee-colored hair is gelled into a faux hawk. His hazel eyes exude warmth and friendliness behind his black plastic-framed glasses. He has rainbow plugs in his ears. He has on a loose-fitting Star Wars shirt and torn jeans. The name tag on his shirt says ‘Kris.’ He has a brightly colored flaming phoenix tattoo on the inside of his left forearm. It’s pretty.  
“Hi. What would you like?” he says cheerily. He has a pleasant husky voice with a thick Southern accent. If honey could talk, it would sound like him.  
“Um, what’s the best pick-me-up you have?”  
“We have an extreme chocolate cupcake. It’s a chocolate cupcake with a dark chocolate ganache filling, chocolate buttercream, and chocolate shavings.”  
“That works.”  
My hand shakes so much when I try to pay for the cupcake I drop change all over his side of the counter. I don’t have the money anyway.  
“I'm so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that,” I tell him quickly. The faster I apologize, the better.  
“It’s okay.” He crouches down to pick up the change. The fact he isn’t yelling at me for a mistake astounds me.  
“I can’t afford it anyway.”  
“It’s on the house.”  
“You won’t get in trouble?”  
“I’ll pay for it myself. Are you okay?” The way his voice softens in concern shocks me. It’s been years since a guy was concerned about me.  
I shake my head slowly. I'm not a liar.  
“I go on break in ten minutes if you need someone to talk to. I know I'm a strange and everything. I promise I'm not a serial killer.” His teasing grin turns joyful when I agree. Having someone to talk to sounds nice, even though I know he won’t believe me.  
I sit at the table in the far corner at the back of the bakery and wait for Kris. I nibble carefully at my cupcake while I wait. I don’t remember the last time I ate something so sweet. It was probably before I came out, so it must have been at least five years ago. It’s almost sickeningly sweet.  
I jump when Kris pulls out the chair across from me.  
“I'm sorry. Mama used to joke that I need to wear a bell,” he tells me sincerely.  
“I just left a guy a week ago.” My voice sounds so small. “Things hadn’t been good for years. It was my fault. I pushed his buttons. I wasn’t a great boyfriend. He didn’t mean to hurt me.”  
“He abused you.”  
“Is it still abuse if you deserve it?”  
“Nobody deserves being abused.”  
“I'm living at a hotel right now. He took my paychecks, so I don’t have money for an apartment.”  
“Or a cupcake.”  
“Yeah. I thought this would make me feel better and I thought I could afford it. I'm Damon, by the way.”  
“Does it? Kris, but you probably saw it on my name tag.”  
“It helps a little bit. Thank you.”  
“You’re welcome.”  
“Why’d you offer to listen?”  
“You looked like you needed someone to care. I know what it’s like to be hurt by someone who’s supposed to love you. Nobody should have to go through that. I'm more than willing to be friends if you’d like to be.”  
I agree to the offer of friendship hesitantly. I don’t trust Kris. He gives me his number so we can text. He explains he understand if I need to get to know him before we actually do friend stuff like hanging out.  
“I gotta get back soon. Before I go, I have a question. If they made parkas with the Jurassic Park logo on them, would that make them Jurassic Parkas?” I find his joke hilarious.  
“It was really nice meeting you,” I tell him once my laughter subsides.  
“You too. We can text later if you want.”  
“Okay.”  
I don’t know if Kris has been honest with me. He might be playing me. He might be an incredible liar. The idea of him being honest with me scares me more than if he lied. Being lied to is something I'm used to. Being told the truth is a foreign concept


	3. Let Him Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is from Kris's POV. It's after the breakup in Say Something. Triggers for this thing are dub-con/noncon because of his drunken booty call. I don't drink, so it might not be accurate in that respect.

How could I be so stupid? I think angrily, throwing a pillow at my wall.  
“I was holding him back. He wouldn’t go after his dreams if we were together. Damon deserves to be happy,” I mumble aloud.  
I hear the front door shut moments before his car starts. The reality of what I’ve just done doesn’t hit until I hear his car leave.  
“What did I just do?” I ask no one, sinking slowly to the floor with my back against my bed.  
I rest my head in my hands as the tears come. My heart feels like it’s breaking in two. My anger isn’t at Damon. My anger is with myself. For breaking up with him. For not trusting in our relationship. The pain feels like a tidal wave threatening to overwhelm me. How can I be doing the right thing if it hurts like this? It feels like being burned alive and dismembered at the same time. It’s an emotional pain so intense it’s physical. I broke his heart and my promises because I thought he would be better off. But what about me? Because this feels too much like drowning to be a good thing.  
The part that hurts the most? I love him and I didn’t realize just how much until I let him go. Can I be any more foolish?  
Wiping my eyes, I make my way into the kitchen. The bottle of wine we were planning on using this weekend sits undisturbed in the back of my fridge. I drag the pretty navy blue bottle out and open it hastily. I don’t remember if it’s red or white. Nor do I care right now. All I care about is forgetting. Drowning my pain instead of drowning in it.  
Not bothering with a glass, I tip the bottle back. It’s a sweet red wine, bordering on sickeningly sweet. I take one gulp after another as if the wine is oxygen until the bottle is empty. I know this isn’t a good way to cope as I'm doing it, but I’ve never been good at coping the right ways. I know I'm dumping gasoline on a wildfire right now, but I just want to forget. I want to forget the pain. I want to forget breaking the heart of the first man I fell in love with.  
I fumble unsteadily with my phone, dialing a number I didn’t realize I remembered.  
“Hey, Kris. What’s up, dude? It’s been months since I’ve heard from you,” the familiar, sunny voice says happily.  
“How soon can you come over?”  
“What? Are you drunk?”  
“Maybe. You used to be the best at making me forget.”  
“You’re booty-calling me while you’re drunk. No.” He hangs up on me.  
I go through the list of every guy I slept with until I find one who agrees. Here I go again, dropping a brick on the self-destruct button. I’ve dropped so many bricks on the dang thing I'm surprised it still works. Damon was the only one who got me to stop once this spiral started. I’ve been self-destructing so long I don’t know if I know how to do anything else.  
I wish I’d known how much I loved him before I let him go.


	4. Say Yes, Say Yes 'Cause I Need To Know

The ring box in my pocket feels like it weighs a hundred pounds. I'm distinctly aware of the tiny bulge it makes in my front pocket. It surprises me that Kris hasn’t noticed it; he notices everything else.  
“You’re jittery tonight. What’s wrong, babe?” he remarks in the restaurant.  
“Nothing’s wrong. We just—We haven’t had that much time to go on dates lately, so I'm excited. And nervous. I don’t know if I remember how to do this.”  
“Yeah, I know. I miss this.” He squeezes my hand gently, a tired smile playing at his lips.  
He pays for our dinner and leads me to a booth. We shed our coats and shove them to the end of the bench seat before going to fix our plates.  
I find myself watching Kris instead of paying attention to what I'm doing. I notice the way other people look at him. The way they check him out. He pays no attention to them.  
I beat him back to the table after loading my plate with sushi. I pat my pocket anxiously in case I lost the ring somehow but it’s still there.  
Kris takes my hand the minute he sits down.  
“Any chance of you getting off doubles soon?” he asks curiously.  
“Yeah, no. We keep eating managers, so they’re more worried about that than hiring actual, you know, help. Don’t get me wrong, I love that we have an emergency clinic now. I just don’t love that I never get to see you.”  
“So, they’re gonna work you guys to death.”  
“Pretty much. The overtime’s nice, though. How’s the bakery working out?”  
“It’s going decent. There’s been some hiccups but nothing major. People love our cupcakes. I have a manager now. Which means I'm not stuck in the office all the time. It’s amazing the stuff you miss when you’re not out on the floor.”  
“What were you missing?” I fiddle nervously with my chopsticks.  
“Two of my bakers were doing drugs. That was the big thing.”  
“How many people work for you now?”  
“Seven. Two up front, four bakers, and my manager. I don’t even have to be there if I don’t wanna be.”  
“That’s good. I'm proud of you, baby. I mean, you’re actually doing the thing you wanted to do.”  
“Thank you. I feel like I haven’t done anything, though.”  
“You’re impressive, Kristoff. You always have been. I mean, I found you impressive and admirable from the start. You knew what you wanted to do and you were too stubborn not to go for it. And I love that about you.”  
“I didn’t know you thought that.” He looks so pleased by this. It makes me happy.  
“I love you. More than anything else. And it scares me so much.”  
“I love you too.”  
“I wish I’d known you existed sooner.”  
“I do too. Gage wouldn’t have stood a chance, would he?” He smirks playfully.  
“Are you nuts? There’s no rating for how much better you are. You broke the scale.”  
“Do you want any dessert? They’ve got some cheesecake up there that looks phenomenal.”  
“I think I’ll pass.” I push my empty plate over to the side with his.  
“Alright. I’ll be back.” He kisses me chastely before he leaves.  
I’ll do it when he gets back, I decide silently, watching him go.  
He has a slice of plain cheesecake and a slice of chocolate cheesecake when he comes back.  
“I’ll share if you want any,” he tells me, sliding into his seat. “By the way, I know you were staring at my butt the entire time.”  
“You have a nice butt. Especially in those jeans. There’s actually something really important I wanna talk to you about.” I slide out of my seat to drop to one knee next to him.  
His hazel eyes widen in surprise as his mouth pops open. I fumble for a moment with the ring box before finally retrieving it from my pocket and opening it to reveal the steel band with the Death Star on it.  
“Kristoff Jäeger, you made my life a million times better. And you keep making it better. You patched me up when I didn’t think I was fixable. Will you do me the honor of being my husband?”  
Everything around us goes silent. It feels like time slows down as I wait for his answer. I don’t know if he’ll actually say yes.  
“Yes! A million times yes,” he tells me happily, holding out his hand for the ring.  
He pulls me in for an excited, heated kiss once I stand. The restaurant erupts in cheers and applause.


	5. Lullaby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, guys, this one is pretty dark. Damon has a relapse with his self-harm recovery. There's also referenced sexual assault from Dirtbag Gage. This ficlet is in Kris's POV too.

I whip into the driveway fast enough my tires and brakes squeal, sending shivers down my spine. If I wasn’t terrified for Damon, it’d freak me out more. It has ever since my wreck. I haven’t heard from him all day, which isn’t his like him anymore; he’s gotten so he’ll text me on his breaks. He also hasn’t answered any of my texts.  
I sprint up the front steps without bothering to shut my car door. My Mustang can be replaced. He can’t.  
The master bathroom door is locked. I bang on it frantically, while calling his name. Nothing. No response. I don’t hear anything from the other side.  
My heart pounds deafeningly in my ears as I pick the lock. Dread turns my blood to ice and pools chillingly in my stomach. I don’t know what I'm going to find on the other side of that door, but I know I'm not going to like it.  
Damon has relapsed. Big time. The blood pooled on the floor around him scares me. His chest rises and falls shallowly with each breath. I think he might be dying.  
“Oh, no, you ain’t dyin’ on me,” I growl, grabbing clean towels from the linen closet behind the bathroom door and sitting on the floor with him. His warm blood soaks my jeans. I dial 911 before pressing the towels to his badly cut forearms. Tears trickle down my face as I try to stop the bleeding.  
“I love you. I love you so much it hurts. And I can’t stand the thought of losing you. You have me terrified right now. Please hold on. Please stay. Please,” I murmur brokenly. I don’t know if he can hear me. I don’t know if it will matter if he can; it looks like he’s inflicted a lot of damage.

I pace anxiously from one end of the ER waiting room to the other. I hate hospital waiting rooms as much as I hate waiting. I hate not knowing if Damon’s gonna be okay.  
It feels like it takes forever before a nurse tells me I can come see him.  
“How is he?” I ask worriedly, following her back to the exam rooms.  
“He’s still in pretty rough shape.”  
He’s awake. He’s hooked up to a blood bag. His forearms are covered with white bandages.  
“Hey, babe. How’re you feelin’?” I ask quietly.  
“I'm sorry.” He stares uncomfortably at the scratchy white blanket over his lap.  
“What happened?”  
“Gage.” He sniffs softly. He gazes up at me with teary green eyes. The way he stares at me with those haunted eyes tears at my heart just like the first time I met him.  
“He hurt you.”  
“Yeah. Please don’t be mad.”  
“I won’t be mad at you. I'm capable of controlling my temper.”  
“H-he assaulted me. Sexually.”  
“Are you okay? Besides the relapse.”  
“Mostly. H-he grabbed me through my jeans and talked about how I wanted it when—I really don’t wanna go into more detail.”  
“Have the cops been called? I gotcha. You know I still love you, right? I still want you. I still think you’re amazing.”  
“Yeah. I want him to get in trouble. I'm glad you do.” He smiles wearily.  
“Do you have to stay the night? I’ll stay with you.”  
“For observation. I wasn’t trying to kill myself. I just wanted it to stop.”  
“I know you did. You had me so scared. I thought you were dead at first.”  
“I'm sorry.”  
“I am not mad at you. It wasn’t your fault.”  
“You don’t wanna cancel the wedding?”  
“Of course not.”  
“Even though I'm still gonna have mummy arms by then?”  
“I love you even with your mummy arms.”  
I promised him forever and always and I meant it. Even if he never gets better, I still mean it. I love him now and I’ll love him when the universe ends. No matter how many near-heart attacks I have when he doesn’t answer his phone.


	6. Nerd Day

“Thanks for going with me,” Kris remarks as he pulls into the parking lot of Robinson’s community center. The parking lot is packed with cars. A food truck sets by the curb about a hundred feet from the front door.  
“No problem. You’re excited, aren’t you?”  
“Yeah. Think anybody will know who I am?” He pulls into an empty parking space within throwing distance of the food truck.  
“Of course they will. I don’t even like Star Wars and I know you’re Luke Solo.”  
“No. No, babe. Han Solo.” Shoulders shaking with silent laughter, he rests his forehead against the steering wheel.  
“I had half of it right. What about mine?”  
“Even I know you’re Harry Potter.”  
He takes my hand gently as soon as we’re out of the car.  
“As long as no one mistakes my blaster for a real gun, we’re good,” he remarks quietly.  
“They don’t even look alike.”  
“No, but you never know when a crazed redneck will shoot a place up with a blaster.”  
“You’re galaxies away from redneck.”  
“Have you heard my accent?”  
“Still a poor point to judge you on.”  
I trip over my black Gryffindor robes as I try to step up onto the curb and nearly faceplant on the hot concrete. Kris grabs my elbow before I do.  
“I think you should’ve brought a broom. Flying it would probably be safer for you than walking right now,” he grins.  
“No, that’d be distracted driving.”  
He holds the door open for me. The convention is set up in a massive room on the left. It looks like half the county is in there. There are cosplayers for fandoms I’ve never even heard of. Vendors have tables set up throughout the room. It’s noisy.  
Kris pauses to pay our admission before we start looking at vendors. The one we go to has decals for every fandom imaginable. Kris browses their Star Wars ones happily. He looks completely relaxed and in his element right now.  
“Excuse me. Are you Han Solo?” a childlike female voice queries politely behind us. The voice’s owner is a little girl of about eight dressed as Princess Leia. Her excited brown eyes peer up at him hopefully. He kneels so he’s on her level. Her tired-looking mother stands behind her protectively.  
“The one and only.” Kris smiles cockily at her.  
“Um, do you mind taking a picture with me? Please?” She turns on the pleading puppy eyes in case he has reservations about doing this. I know she doesn’t need to do this.  
They stand back-to-back, their blasters aimed at invisible baddies in front of them, for the picture.  
“Thank you so much! You’re the best!” she exclaims once her mom finishes taking pictures of them, hugging Kris tightly.  
“You’re welcome. Go save the galaxy.”  
She looks like the happiest kid in the universe right now.  
“Thank you for doing that. She and her dad were super close and Star Wars was their thing. He died four months ago, and it’s been super hard on us. You don’t know how much this means to my baby girl,” her mom tells Kris quietly.  
“I'm glad I could help. Honestly, I think it made my day as much as it made hers.”  
The girl is still bubbling happily about Kris as she and her mom leave.  
I don’t enjoy the convention as much as he does but seeing him have fun is worth it. Loads of people want to take pictures with him, but none of them are as cool as the first one.


	7. Poisoned Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this one for Jotober. The prompt was 'poisonous' and I think I did a decent job of fulfilling it, especially when I don't usually use prompts. The only trigger is suicide ideation. Kris is pretty messed up in this one.

_“He doesn’t love you. He never loved you. You were someplace to stay. Someone to fuck when he was horny. He used you. How could he want someone like you? Someone damaged? Nobody wants you. Nobody loves you. How could anyone love someone as damaged as you? You should just do everyone a favor and kill yourself,”_ Clare’s words twist their way through my mind like smoke. Or venom. They play on repeat and echo, so they’re the only thing I hear.

I don’t recognize the crying stranger in the mirror. That can’t be me. There is no way I look that broken. Because the stranger looks as broken as Clare says I am.

 _She’s right. How could anyone love me? I ruin everything. I broke up my parents. I broke Damon’s heart. I break everything I touch,_ I decide.

Her poisonous words have found their way to my heart.


	8. Poker Face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pre-Gage Damon is pretty fun to write. This one was for the Jotober prompt 'chicken.'

I smile to myself as I watch the poker game going on in our tiny dorm room. I’m good at poker, but I’ve never asked nor been asked to join in. It’s Scott and his friends playing and I don’t want to intrude.

“Damon, are you gonna stare or pull up a chair?” Scott asks, distracting me.

“I have fifty bucks. Not happening.” I’m not dumb enough to gamble the little money I have. If I do this and lose, I won’t be eating until I get paid again.

“Dude, c’mon. Be social. One hand?”

“No, Scott.”

“Chicken.”

“Fine, butthead. I lose, and I’m never speaking to you again.” I clamber off my bed to join the six other guys.

“Wait. That doesn’t mean—”

“Yeah, it does. If I’m not speaking to you, why would it mean I’m still sleeping with you?”

“That’s harsh, dude.”

“So is not eating.”

“We’re not using cash. Just chips.”

Scott conveniently waits until after the flop cards are on the table to tell me it’s strip poker. So, instead of possibly going hungry, I have the prospect of seven other guys seeing me mostly naked. Uh-uh.

 _Play this smart. You know how to play poker. You know this game. All you have to do is outwit these guys. That shouldn’t be too hard; some of them aren’t exactly Einstein. Channel your inner Slytherin. Be cunning,_ I tell myself, checking my hand for what feels like the fifteenth time. I have a pair of Aces with my pocket cards but the flop cards don’t add anything.

 

By the end of the game, I’m the only one with any chips and not in his underwear. Now I wish it had been cash and not chips. I’d actually have some money saved then.

“Told you I’m not chicken,” I murmur against Scott’s lips when everyone’s gone.

“So, you’re still speaking to me?” He grins at me in the dark.

“You know that wouldn’t have lasted, right? My threats are empty anyway.” I run my fingers gently through his blond hair. I wish he wasn’t so scared of commitment. I wish we could make this official. But wishing isn’t going to make this sweet blond guy fall in love with me. If either of us are chicken, it’s him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pescatarian, which means the only animal meat I eat is fish, and it's super hard to find food where I live that doesn't mean fresh produce I don't have time to cook. I remember how ecstatic I was when I walked into a store that had frozen meals I could eat. I wanted to hug the freezer lol. I wanted to capture that moment in writing with Damon, who's also pescatarian. This was for Jotober prompt 'drooling.'

“Wait till you see this,” Kris grins, leading me down the TV dinner aisle at Meijer.

“What’re we looking for?”

“Oh, you’ll know when we get there. I would’ve blindfolded you to make the reveal better but I was afraid you would either be scared or someone would think I was kidnapping you.”

“It wouldn’t have scared me.”

He keeps going until we’re midway down the aisle.

“Turn to your le—no, your right. And, behold, the beauty I drove you an hour to see,” he tells me, still grinning. I don’t know why he looks so happy, but I do as he asks.

I’m staring at a freezer full of vegetarian TV dinners. I didn’t know things like this existed or how beautiful it would be.

“Damon, you’re drooling,” Kris laughs, kissing my cheek lightly. “So, am I the best boyfriend ever?”

“I think I’m in love.”

“Not what I expected. Should I buy you guys a wedding present then?”

“Seriously, Kris. This is amazing!”

“They have more. I thought you’d like the TV dinners best.”

“More? Can I—Can I try some of these?” I want to try this new food so badly, but it’s also so expensive. Not being able to buy veggie food at home made me ignorant of how expensive it is.

“No, I brought you here so you could die of want. Of course you can try them. I’ll hold the door for you, unless you wanna watch me climb in the freezer again.”

“You told me you didn’t do that anymore.” I hate when he climbs in the freezers to get stuff. It makes me worry he might fall and get hurt.

“Um, when you’re not there to yell at me, it doesn’t count. I’m short. What else do you expect me to do?”

“Ask for help.”

“Hell ain’t froze over.”

“Hold the door.”

 

I start drooling again when I see all the meat substitutes. I didn’t know this big of a variety of veggie food existed. I’m honestly in heaven right now. I’ve got enough food to feed just me for two months and an amazing, tolerant guy who found it for me.

“Hey, Damon,” Kris says as we go out to his car. “Know what my last name means in German?”

“Yeah. It means hunter. Why?”

“How do you know that? I did a good job hunting for food for you, didn’t I?”

“Google. I was curious. That’s—Yes, you did, but that was just too cheesy.”

“So is this cart.” He gestures to the shopping bag full of cheese I bought.

“You’re impossible.”


	10. Forever & Always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kris and Damon are getting married!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been dying to write Kris and Damon getting married. Right now, I think the actual novel is garbage and I want to delete everything, so the oneshots are the best thing for me to work on. This might be the first happy thing I've written in Kris's POV.

_Where is he? Is he seriously gonna be late to our wedding?_ I wonder, glancing around anxiously.

Everyone else is here. Mama and Braedon sit in the front row behind me. Maria and Jade sit in the row behind them. Those are our only guests.

The church is too warm and I am too uncomfortable in my rented tux. And Damon is MIA, which adds to my discomfort.

It’s pretty. I’ll admit that. The smell of the red and white roses adorning the ends of the pews makes my head hurt.

I shift uncomfortably on the spot. I might be wearing a white, rented, uncomfortable tux, but I'm still wearing my beat-up brown boots.

 _Did he change his mind?_ The thought launches itself, unwelcomed, to the front of my mind. It makes me sick to my stomach.

I’ve almost given up when he finally walks in. He practically runs up to me.

“I'm sorry. I am so sorry,” he murmurs, kissing my cheek lightly.

I trip over my tongue as we say our vows. He’s trying not to cry. We make a fine couple.

When we’re pronounced husbands, he pulls me close and kisses me hungrily. His fingers grip my hipbones gently. Someone clears their throat after a few moments. I don’t care. Let them be uncomfortable.

“So, um, forever?” I ask when we part for breath.

“Always.” His happy grin has never looked more beautiful.  
  
Damon hasn’t stopped holding my hand since we left the church. I remember how, for the longest time, he wasn’t okay with holding hands in public. He’s changed a lot since then.

“You scared me,” I admit in the driveway.

We’re having the reception at home for ease and comfort. We can both change into more comfortable clothes if we want to.

“I'm sorry about that. I didn’t mean to be late. Or scare you.”

“What happened?”

“I spent twenty minutes trying to convince Saphira to let me have my shoe. I didn’t want to get married in tennis shoes; they don’t match a tux.”

“I wore my boots.”

“You’re gonna be buried in your boots.”

“Good point. So, our loony dog made you late. That’s hilarious.”

Our family is waiting for us when we get out of the car. Maria hugs both of us excitedly.

“Thanks for taking care of him when Clare happened,” I whisper when she hugs me.

“I'm not a houseplant,” Damon protests, making me laugh.

“You were not supposed to hear that.”

“You guys are perfect. I hope you know that,” Maria tells us, smiling. She takes off her bright red glasses and wipes carefully at her cognac eyes.

“So are you and Jade.”

I mean it too. They might be the cutest couple I’ve ever seen.

“For the record, this is the only time anyone is ever gonna see me in a strapless dress. Ever.”

She looks nice in the peach dress. It compliments her ebony skin and makes the pink in her black hair, styled in Ghana braids, look more pink.

“I think you rock it,” Jade informs her, wrapping her arms around Maria’s waist and kissing her cheek.

“Jade, is that a ring?” Damon asks excitedly.

“Promise ring. It’s pretty exciting.”

Jade is the opposite of Maria. She’s only a couple inches shorter than Damon. Her short black hair is gelled into a sleek mohawk. The sleeves of her light blue button-down are rolled up to the elbows, revealing the intricate tattoos on her forearms. I’d like to know where she got the fiery plugs in her ears, even though her piercings are several gauges larger than mine. She looks more at home in the dress shirt and black jeans than I feel in my tux. She isn’t as warm as Maria, but I like her.

“You wanna wear the dress?” Maria asks, glancing back at her girlfriend.

“You are hilarious.” Jade lets her go and the four of us make our way to the backyard.  
  
Damon takes one look at the buffet the caterers set up and his face falls. The last time he looked this disappointed was when I dumped him.

“What’s wrong, acushla?” I murmur, squeezing his hand gently.

“It all has meat. Murder meat.” He doesn’t even smile when I use my pet name for him.

“You’re kidding. So, there’s nothing you can eat?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I'm sorry. I swear I told them to make sure vegetarian food was included.”

“I know. It’s fine. I'm resourceful, okay? I’ll figure it out.”

I step behind him in line to get our food. He literally has two food options: Grilled squash and shrimp skewers. Maria only has the squash.

“You didn’t get a cake?” Mama asks when Damon and I sit down on the metal loveseat.

“I'm not that big on sweets, plus Kris looks at cake all day long,” Damon explains, scooting so our knees touch.

Maria and Mama decorated the backyard this morning while Damon and I took care of a few last-minute things. It looks incredible. They strung white fairy lights along the arbors surrounding the stone patio where we’re sitting. More of the lights hang in the dwarf cherry trees. In the sunset, it looks magical. Being here with the man I love, it feels magical.  
  
A fire burns bright in the firepit by the time Mama takes Braedon back to the hotel. Maria and Jade have brought out a stereo and a cooler.

The cooler contains my weakness: Grape Smirnoff Ice. I want one so bad it’s almost painful. But I know one will turn into four, which will turn into six, which will turn into not remembering anything that happens tonight. I know I can’t have one.

“Are you alright?” Damon asks worriedly, rubbing my back gently.

“I really want one. I really, really want one. And bad things will happen if I do. Meaning I'm not gonna remember jack in the morning and might puke on you.”

“Then I won’t drink either. If you can’t, I can’t. It’s only fair.” He rests his head lightly on my shoulder.

“I’d say it’s just vodka that happens with, but it’s not.” I didn’t realize I actually had a drinking problem until after I stopped drinking. I mean, drinking pretty much every night is a normal college student thing, right? It shouldn’t be.

“There’s tequila too,” Jade tells us, sipping her beer.

“Never let me drink tequila.”

“You take your clothes off, don’t you? No offense, but not something I’d like to see.” Jade’s smirk would be amusing any other time.

“No. No, it makes me mean. The one time I had it was the one fight I got into while I was drunk.”

“You wanna dance with me?” Damon asks, distracting me.

Some soft, lovey pop song I don’t know the name of plays on the stereo as Damon leads me a safe distance from the firepit.

“Um, you know what you’re doing?” I ask quietly.

“Not really.”

I don’t think swaying slightly in place counts as dancing but that’s what we’re doing.

“Did you think we’d be doing this? Dancing in the backyard after getting married?” I murmur, moving one hand from the back of his neck to caress his face. His stubble scratches at my hand.

“No, I didn’t. I didn’t think you’d want forever with me. I figured, as soon as someone cuter or smarter or better in bed came along, you’d leave me. And I know you’re not shallow. I just didn’t think I was worth that much.”

“You’re my entire universe. How could I want someone else?”

He leans in and kisses me hard by way of an answer. Any pretense of dancing is forgotten as we kiss heatedly.

“You know I never thought I’d be doing this? I didn’t think I’d settle down, much less find a guy I wanted to settle down with. Before I met you, my life was getting drunk, getting my brains screwed out at least twice a week, going to work, and going to class. What did you see in me?”

“Well, you still have some of it. You don’t go to class anymore since you graduated. And you don’t drink now. I didn’t know that, actually. You were kind to me. Plus, you’re honestly the hottest thing on two legs. Or at least that’s what I think. Um, I think Maria and Jade should probably stay here since they’re both drinking.”

“That’s not gonna be awkward. I mean, I agree with you. I don’t think either of them should be driving.”

“I know.”

I could almost hug Jade when she tells me a friend of theirs is going to come get them.  
  
“I can’t believe this,” he pants afterwards.

“What? Was I crappy or something?” I prop myself up on one elbow so I can look at him.

“No, you were amazing. I get to keep you. You’re actually mine. I'm yours. I'm not dreaming or in a coma. This is real. This is the best thing ever.”

“Forever and always.”


End file.
